So That's Why They Call It Falling
by Aradia-rising
Summary: A girl from Colorado who’s been hired to be a secretary to Herb Brooks. She’s really clumsy and falls for…
1. Call me Grace

I rushed through the back hallways of the Broadmoor World Arena carrying a stack of papers in my hands taller than I was. I had to get the player paperwork up to the executives in five minutes, and the trip to the conference room took ten. Any way you looked at it, I was screwed. As I rounded a corner and hurried up a flight of stairs, I ran into a chest. A broad, well-defined chest, but a chest nonetheless. I swore loudly, not caring if I had sent Lou Nanne flying.

"Here, let me help you with that." The torso spoke, and I noticed it was attached to a very good-looking guy. He had short, slightly curly hair, and a strong jaw line. His lips were curved onto a cute crooked smile and I suddenly found myself tongue-tied.

"Thanks, I just need to get these to the committee, I'm running late." I pulled the loose papers into a haphazard pile and stood up. The guy rose and handed me a few more papers he collected.

"There you go." He said, standing there awkwardly.

I cleared my throat quietly. "Well, if you could just- I need to get up there-"

The guy- I still needed to get his name- moved out of my way at once, stuttering apologies. I dashed up the stairs and out of sight before he could take a breath.

I burst though the conference room doors panting to find no one was there. I checked the clock. I was ten minutes late; the directors should have been there. I set the papers on the table and carefully walked around it. I sighed; I was so fired. The sound of the door shutting made me spin around. It was Walter Bush, the man who gave me this job in the first place.

"Herb's went and picked the team already, we won't be needing the paperwork."

I nodded and picked up the papers, pushing them into a nicer pile. For the first time today I really looked at any of the papers and at the top was not a player profile, but a psychology test. "Mr. Bush? Do you know what this is?"

Walter craned his neck to inspect the document. "It looks like those tests Herb was passing out to his players."

'It must have belonged to the guy I ran into earlier' I thought, as I made my way back down the stairs. I sat down behind my desk and sifted through the papers searching for a picture that matched the face that held me speechless. I found him, about halfway through the stack. I ran my finger over the edge of the Polaroid.

"…

* * *

I'm still kinda new at this but how's that for a cliffhanger? Pairings are still welcomed; the guy she sees in the picture may not be the guy I have her end up with. 


	2. Stop meeting like this

"Mike Eruzione." I murmured, taking in the photo. He wasn't very photogenic, that was obvious. Born October 25, 1960 in Winthrop, Massachusetts. He went to Boston University, and was giving up his sophomore year of college for the team. I sighed and glanced at my Betty Boop clock on the corner of my desk. For the past twenty minutes I had been on overtime, _score_. I grabbed my sweater, the test, and Mike's report, and hurried to my car.

I drove slowly past the boys' dorms at the college, checking the names on the imposing concrete signs. Finally I found the one I was looking for and turned into the parking lot. I hurried up the stairs and ran right into Mike.

"We've gotta stop meeting like this." He said, helping me up.

"Oh, um, you dropped this," I said awkwardly, holding out his test. "Last time we ran into each other."

Mike's eyes lit up in understanding. "Oh yeah! That's where I lost it. Well, I uh, grabbed Rammer's- Mike Ramsey- so I guess you should be giving it to him."

I blew a stray hair out of my face. "Fine. Do you know where I can find him?"

"Uh yeah. He's at Nallen's, that bar on 22nd."

It was the popular place for college singles to hang out and hook up I knew where it was. "Okay, I was planning on stopping by later anyway."

"Well, I guess I'll see you around."

"Yeah, see ya 'round." I said softly, heading back down the stairs.

"Wait!" I turned quickly. "I'm Mike. Mike Eruzione."

I nodded. "I figured that out. Had to track you down and all."

"Well now you know my name and I still don't know yours."

I grinned. "Samantha Carling."

Nallen's bar was crowded as usual, there was a few tables crawling with hockey players that I had seen earlier that day. I scanned the crowd for a Mike Ramsey match. I found him in the corner, talking quietly with a few other guys. The group was hunched over their tests like a bunch of little old ladies. I marched over to the table and cleared my throat. "Is one of you Mike Ramsey?" I asked

"That's me." He spoke up, the only one without a test.

"I've got your test here." I said shyly, holding it out for him. "Mike said to give it to you."

"Rizzo! I knew he took it!" Mike laughed and grabbed the test out of my hand. "Thanks for bringing it down here. You didn't have too"

"No problem." I said smiling. I liked Mike (Now called Rammer). He seemed genuine, something I hadn't come across in a while. "Well I better go, I've got dishes to do at home."

"You can join us, if you want." A blond guy who sat across the table from me kicked out the chair, offering-in a less than genteel manner- for me to stay.

I glanced from face to face. "Sure, I'd like that." I took a seat in the chair the blond guy set out for me. "I'm Samantha Carling, by the way."

"I'm Phil Verchota." The blond guy said, " This is Rob McClanahan, Steve Christoff, Bill Baker, Eric Stobel, Steve Janaszack, Neal Broten."

"Nice to meet you." I said nodding.

* * *

So now she's met the boys! Sorry for the delay, all my lazy butt's fault I swear. 


	3. Wackos out there

After a couple of hours, and more than a couple of beers, I stood up, ready to leave. "Well, I really do need to get going." I said saying goodbye.

"Wait! How about I walk you to your car. It's getting dark and you never know what kind of wackos are out there."

I shook my head and laughed. "If you want to Mike."

He grabbed my coat and held the door open for me. "Ladies first."

"Nice to know chivalry isn't dead."

"So, are you going to Minnesota with the team?"

I nodded. "It was part of my contract. I worked here for a couple weeks and it came with my promotion."

"You flying up there?"

"Yeah, on the Committee's dime too. It's kinda cool."

Rammer laughed. "I had to drive here, and I'll have to drive back. Takes three days all together. Flying? That's really cool."

I stopped in front of my green Toyota. "Well, no wackos so far."

"You can never be sure." Rammer replied turning away.

"Wait!" Rammer turned and I quickly pecked him on the cheek. "Thanks for the concern."

"No problem."

* * *

A few days later I had all my things packed up. I glanced around my now bare apartment and sighed. As shabby as it was, I liked living here. There was a 3.2 bar just down the street my friends and I would walk to a couple times a week, and it was a four and a half minute drive to work every morning. In Minneapolis I'd be taking a forty-five minute commute. But it was worth it.

"Knock knock. The movers are waiting for the last box. You ready?" Leah, my best friend, and her roommate Cindy lived two floors down and they were helping me bring all my stuff to the street so the movers could pick it up.

"Yeah. Where's Cindy?"

"Flirting with the driver. Sometimes I wish I was single again." Leah sighed then shook her head. "Nah."

I hoisted the box onto my hip as I stood up. "Really? Think about it, you can go wherever, whenever. No one's holding you down."

"Somebody's always holding you down. It doesn't matter if you're single or not. Why wouldn't you have taken the job?"

I pushed the elevator down button. "You. And my family. My apartment I guess-"

"Exactly. And if that didn't stop you college would have. Or say you met a great guy here. There's always something that will keep you from going. It takes a brave person to stop using them as excuses and take the plunge." Leah had tears in her eyes as we made our way out of the elevator and outside. "I'm gonna miss you Sammie."

"Miss you too Lee." I replied, handing the box over to a mover and pulling her into a hug.

"Now you're gonna call us as often as your salary allows, right? And keep us updated on this Mike Eruzione too."

I blushed. "Deal. And you will tell me if you're ever in the neighborhood and can come see me."

"Of Course. Be safe, have fun."

"What are you her mother?" Cindy interjected, putting one arm around me. "Sam can handle herself against those big bad Minnesotans, can't ya Sam?"

I grinned. " Well yeah, but there are guys from Boston, Wisconsin, Maryland, New Hampshire; All over."

"Well Boston boys are pushovers, so you should stick around them."

Leah smirked. "Sam's lover boy's from Boston, better watch out."

"Leah!"

* * *

So you know: A 3.2 bar is an establishment permitted to serve only drinks that have no more than 3.2 percent alcohol in their total volume, and in Colorado at the time, a 3.2 bar was allowed to serve persons over the age of 18. Usually high schoolers (like my mother) would go there before they hit 21. 


	4. Give me a ride?

I looked out the window of the plane and sighed. What wonderful new experiences would be waiting for me in the twin cities? Okay, so maybe I was putting a happy light on the deal, but who could blame me? I wasn't about to get all worked up over 'what-ifs' that probably wouldn't come true, especially when I had a bunch of things to look forward to.

The seatbelt light came back on and I quickly packed up my stuff. "Passengers please fasten your seatbelts and put you seatbacks in the full and upright position, we are now entering the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport. It is currently 2:35 local time and a balmy 78 degrees. On behalf of all your flight crew we thank you for flying American Airlines and hope to assist you in your travel needs again."

I unlocked my seatbelt as the plane came to a slow stop and waited for all the old people to gather their bags and unbuckle their seatbelts. I never understood why people waited for the seatbelt light to go out to take them off.

I finally got off the plane and made it to baggage claim in fifteen minutes flat. As I was waiting for my bag, I thought I heard a familiar voice.

"Then Baker gets rammed into the boards; I'm talking hard, if I didn't know any better, I'd say he's drunk. So he's trying to get back in the play and he trips over the puck and lands flat on his face!"

I investigated and there was Steve Christoff, from Nallen's, talking to another guy, with blond hair and blue eyes,who was doubled over laughing.

"Hey Steve, you live around here?"

Steve spun around, losing his grip on his baggage and sending his duffel bag skidding across the floor. "Oh! Sam, uh yeah, right off campus." The guy next to him elbowed him in the ribs and nodded at me. "Yeah, uh, Sam, this is Josh Nolan, Josh, Samantha Carling."

"Nice to meet you." I said, shaking his hand. The greeting went on a few more seconds than necessary, and I had to force my hand out of Josh's.

"You too. Hey, could we give you a ride?"


End file.
